In the room the women come and go
Talking of Michaelangelo
....
I have measured out my life in coffee spoons;
I know the voices dying with a dying fall
Beneath the music from a farther room.
From The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot

Breakfast in the Loggia - 1910

John Singer Sargent
Painting; oil on canvas
H: 51.5 W: 71.0 cm
United States
Gift of Charles Lang Freer, F1917.182a-b
In the Freer Sackler Galleries of American Art at the Smithsonian Institution

from Lady Lazarus

By Sylvia Plath

I have done it again.
One year in every ten
I manage it
...
Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.
I do it so it feels like hell.
I do it so it feels real.
I guess you could say I've a call.
It's easy enough to do it in a cell.
It's easy enough to do it and stay put.
It's the theatrical
Comeback in broad day
To the same place, the same face, the same brute
Amused shout:
'A miracle!'
That knocks me out.
There is a charge
For the eyeing my scars, there is a charge
For the hearing of my heart---
It really goes.
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